I am Yours
by twilight-moon09
Summary: She never expected to ever actually meet him and he never expected loving her would be so hard when she finally did. Agent Jones is assigned her most difficult mission ever in helping Cap adjust and she wants to keep her past hidden from him by staying professional. But as Cap adapts, he realizes he doesn't care because he has feelings for her. Movieverse, CapxOC, Rated M
1. Prologue

**_Author's Note: _**It has been a VERY long time since I've written anything for the site...please post reviews because I love comments! I'd been searching for a Captain America love story that I would really enjoy, and I haven't found very many. I love slash stories...but Cap seems like Mr. Right to me. I'd love to see Mr. Right fall in love with a woman. This story is rated Mature for chapters yet to come, it takes place in the movie verse and Agent Jones is my own creation, though her grandfather is not. Enjoy!

**Summary:** She never expected to ever actually _meet_ him, and he never expected loving her would be so hard when she finally did. SHIELD Agent Jones has been assigned her most difficult mission ever in helping Captain America adjust to the present, and she wants to keep her past hidden from him by staying professional. But as Cap adapts, he realizes he doesn't care about her plan when he has feelings for her. How will their relationship progress?

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN MARVEL, OR HE AVENGERS, BUT THE PLOT OF THIS STORY IS MINE. :)**

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**Prologue**

_The moonlight floods the bedroom with butterflies and princess crowns painted on the pink walls and the shadows protect me and my hiding place under the bed. I hear the screams and thuds and things being thrown around in the next room, causing my small body to shake so violently with fear that my pounding heartbeats hurt my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut as tight as they will go, placing my hand on the wall next to me that I've backed up against. _

_ As I disassociate, my reality suddenly changes. My mother's screams slowly fade away, and the noises I'm hearing from the other room now match different actions. The loud thud is now Captain America kicking in the door. The bangs against the walls are the punches Cap throws into my father's face and his gut. The slams I hear are nothing more than Cap's sturdy boots kicking him when he's down. All the glass repeatedly shattering is from his shield ricocheting off numerous objects into my dad's body. _

_In this reality, those footfalls making their way toward my childhood bedroom belong to the Star Spangled Man coming to save me. As I hear the door open, I peak through my small eyes and raise a hand to touch the secret poster of my savior, hidden away under my bed. His bright smile warms the tears streaming down my face and I can almost smile…until a large hand roughly snatches me from my safe place under my bed._

I always jump awake from the reoccurring nightmare at that moment. My eyes fly open scanning the room for threats and I'm gasping deeply for air. My heart is beating just as hard as it did that night years ago. I immediately grip the gun hidden away under my pillow, years of training taking over my actions as panic and anxiety cloud my mind. I must gain control again. I feel the beads of sweat dripping down my back from the fitful sleep, as the tears I would never dare let fall temporarily cloud my vision. A few controlled breaths later, and the attack is starting to subside.

My poised trigger finger relaxes, and I return my gun to its rightful hiding place. I look around my living quarters as my heart beat slows, listing everything about it till I'm calm as I usually do when I have night terrors. The room is gray. No windows, two doors, one for entry and the other to the bathroom. One couch, one bed, two pillows, one computer desk, one chair, one computer. One light. I sighed, feeling normal again. "And one person," I finished aloud, completing my list.

I walk into the bathroom and begin the ritual of splashing water in my face to wash away the bad dreams. It never really works. The digital clock reads 3:44 in the morning, and I roll my eyes accepting I won't be returning to sleep anytime soon. I walk over to my computer and start it up. I login to my personal diary files, and began to record.

**Entry #1,026**

**S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent number 5498-5870**

**March 4, 2011. **

**The time is 48 minutes past 03:00 hours. Tonight, it was pretty much the same dream…almost no variations. Except…this time…I remembered touching the poster…the feeling of the words under my fingers…reaching out for it as if it would make him become real somehow. **

My mind starts to wonder as I remember the fading shades of red, white, and blue on the poster. I shake my head and quickly bring myself back to the present.

**I wake from the dream the same way. In a cold sweat, a racing heart rate, **and** gasping for air. The dream has been occurring more often lately, and I have no idea what it means. Since sleep is no longer an option for tonight, I'm headed to the gym for extra training time. **

**Agent 5498-5870, signing out.**

I ended the recording right as a knock sounded at my door.

"Requesting permission to enter, ma'am?"

I straightened myself in the desk chair. "Permission granted."

A nervous officer stepped into my room with diverted eyes, and I could tell that she was scared because she thought she'd woken me up. My eyes must have been kind, because she visibly relaxed just a tad when we made eye contact. Kind eyes almost never happen. She was definitely one of the newer officers, but of them all she was the most tolerable.

"You've been assigned an urgent mission, and your plane departs in an hour ma'am."

I scoffed disapprovingly. "I don't know if Agent Coulson notified you Officer Dayton, but I'm on leave for the next 40 hours."

"I understand, ma'am. But you were specially requested for this mission. You've receive your mission briefing on the Quinjet."

I sighed heavily, a little grateful that I was already awake and almost completely dressed for a mission before she knocked on my door. Still, it didn't mean that I had to be happy about it.

"And just who will be briefing on this urgent mission? Agent Romanoff? No, she's currently on assignment keeping her cover intact at Stark Industries...who does that leave? Barton? He's in the desert with Selvig…so who does that leave, Coulson?" I turned away from her mumbling to myself, digging through my dresser noisily because I didn't want to go.

"Actually I am." A male voice answered, and I knew the voice immediately. Director Fury. "And we don't have a lot of time. Let's move out." He said promptly before exiting in that 'I mean business' manner that only he can do.

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Please review! I will try to do weekly updates, but I won't make promises lol.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: The Man Out of Time**

I stared into the skies of the rising sun as the Quinjet leveled out from taking off from the helicarrier. "Sir, with all due respect, what mission requires my presence at four in the morning?" I asked as politely as I could, though it still came across as rude because of my general tone.

He gave me a stern look through his good eye. "You're mission which I so rudely interrupted your beauty sleep for was well warranted Agent Jones. Trust me, you won't want to miss this." He took a remote control and pointed it at a clear glass screen, and files started to appear. Definitely Stark technology. The mission briefing began.

"At exactly 03:00 hours this morning an unidentified aircraft was found frozen in the Arctic by a couple of scientists. Upon arrival at the crash site, our team cut a hole into the carrier and inside, we found what we'd been missing for nearly 70 years." A face flashed on the screen, a face I thought I'd never see there in a million years. Suddenly I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Captain America, _The_ Captain America was frozen in a block of ice along with his shield. We're only assuming he survived because of the Super Soldier Serum he was injected with created by Dr. Erskine, but tests are being run to prove that. I'm sure you were briefed on the story long ago, this aircraft is the same plane created by Hydra and flown by Herr Johann Schmidt, also known as The Red Skull, with the intentions of first laying waste to the entire eastern seaboard of our country, then destroying the world.

He planned to do so with the power source he'd discovered and learned to harness known as the Tesseract, the very same cube now being researched by our own, Dr. Erik Selvig. The only reason Schmidt did not succeed was because Captain America crashed the plane into the ocean, sacrificing his own life. Shortly after, the late Howard Stark, a friend and comrade of the Captain's, began search parties for plane and retrieved the cube which is why it is in our possession today. Unfortunately, the Captain's body was never discovered. Until today, that is. Now enough of the history lesson, let's get down to business."

The files changed, and it was Captain America's medical file from the military.

"Captain Steven D. Rogers, born July 4, 1922. Height 6'2. Weight 240 lbs. Age…well, technically he was 25. Today though, he's in his nineties. As we speak our medical teams are working to safely thaw out Rogers, and nurse him to his previous state. Won't take much, and when he wakes he'll be in New York City. So will you. Your mission _is_ Captain America. You are to be his aide in this entire endeavor which is sure to be a shock to his system. With you being a historian along with your background in psychology, I figured you were more than qualified for the job. You will be with him at all times, until further notice. You are also considered to be his personal body guard as well. Though physically he certainly doesn't need one, he'll be too overwhelmed to protect himself properly. We'll try to keep him a well kept secret, but who knows how many enemies Captain America still has in the world. Ultimately, you are there to help him adjust to 2012. Am I clear?"

"Yes sir. But if I could just comment…" He rolled his eyes, more than used to my disagreeing with him on everything. "I am honored to be considered for such an important task, but honestly I don't believe I'm the best person for the job." I thought of my past, the past that I'd worked so well to keep hidden, and I felt the anxiety slowly building inside me. Meet Captain America? In person? I never thought it would even be possible. He's supposed to be dead, a relic of a past time, a legend of a golden age, and a hero to only wonder about. Not to hear, speak to, and touch. He's only supposed to exist on his cartoon show, in comics and the history books. Not in real life. Not with me.

"And why is that Agent Jones?" He asked, clearly annoyed.

"There are at least half a dozen better suited agents for the job. I'm sure Romanoff or Barton would be more than willing to take on this mission. In fact, Agent Coulson is secretly a big fan of the captain—"

"Which is why he was not chosen for such close contact. We don't need to thaw out the Captain only for Coulson to give him a heart attack. And both Agent Barton and Romanov are already on assignment. By the way, I'm through entertaining the idea that you won't take this mission because you will. You have no choice.

Now, Officer Dayton will also be assisting in New York, she will be our first man in. In order to help him slowly acclimate to the present, we've constructed a 1940's recovery room. Our plan is to slowly explain things to him in a calm manner. You will stay back until you are commanded otherwise. When you are called forward, you and Captain Rogers will live together and you are to educate him, help him slowly adjust, answer his questions, and teach him basic technology, while analyzing him at the same time. There is also a great possibility that the shock from waking up years into the future in conjunction with remembering nothing but the war he'd been fighting in that he could wake up with post-traumatic stress disorder. You will support him through nightmares, flashbacks, outbursts, and extreme awareness episodes should any of it occur. The point is to get him back in the world again, but we need him mentally stable.

This is considered plan A. Plan B is him pretty much living behind glass alone while numerous doctors study him like a lab rat. For obvious reasons, we're hoping plan A will be successful. We land in 20 minutes." And in his usual manner, he walked away to the front of the jet without another word.

As I absorbed everything that was said, the lump in my throat grew to the size of a star spangled shield.

Once we landed Director Fury said we still had a few hours till Captain's sedative wore off so we should get some sleep. I took a few minutes to have a quick look around my new apartment I'd be sharing with Captain Rogers. Very spacious, and it was modern enough to be functional for me but not overwhelm the Captain. It was nice, much better than the dorm-like living quarters I've been in on the helicarrier. I peeked into Steve's room just to see, and everything was modeled from the 1940's, from the furniture to the look of the wall paper. I walked into my own room and passed out on my bed without a second thought. No nightmares, no dreams at all. Just rest.

After what felt like only an hour, I was awoken by alarms going off through the entire building. Immediately I sprang into action, and darted out of the door. The speakers were blaring code 13 which meant that Captain America had woken up and everything went to hell. Fury yelled into my earpiece.

"Agent Jones, get down here now! Captain Rogers has taken off toward Times Square!"

In seconds I was in the car with Fury, and we had Rogers surrounded. He gave me the signal to fall back, and walked over to the Captain.

"At ease, soldier." He said to get Captain America's attention. I couldn't believe I was actually seeing him.

He slowly approached him. "Look I'm sorry about that little show back there, but…we thought it best to break it to you slowly."

Captain Rogers was clearly panicked, his chest was rising and falling rapidly and his eyes were wide with fear. "Break what?" He asked.

I'd heard it. I'd heard him speak. For the first time, in person. It was…something.

"You've been asleep Cap. For almost 70 years." Fury said evenly.

The Captain looked at Fury for a second to process what he said, and then a wounded look crossed his face. He looked around him at all the people, the lights, the screens, the store fronts, the cars…his breathing picked up again and he looked sad.

"You gonna be okay?" Fury asked.

The Captain sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I just…I had a date." He said dejectedly. Fury looked down, not knowing what to say. I wonder what that meant. After a few seconds, Captain was willing to follow Fury back to our car. I held open the door for Captain and got in the passenger seat and signaled the agent driving it was time to leave. The ride back to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s base was a quiet and somber one.

After what I'm sure was a long stressful evening of multiple conversations with Director Fury, I heard Captain America come into the apartment about 4 in the morning and go straight into his room. I drifted to sleep that night, still amazed that he was actually breathing just a few feet away from me. It felt like a dream.

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	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Waking Up**

The next morning I didn't really know what to expect. I got woke up at 6:30, and was dressed by 7:00 am. I'd pulled my shoulder length dark brown hair back into a bun and opted for wearing a pair of jeans and a S.H.I.E.L.D. standard issue black t-shirt that I usually saved for training in the gym. I started a pot of coffee and sat at the kitchen table. I decided to read the newspaper on the table, realizing I'd been reading it on computers for the last few years. I realized I'd missed the feeling of holding it in my hands. Strange, but true.

Right as I moved to reading the weekly Captain America comic, the Captain himself strolled into the kitchen barefoot. I knew he was shocked to see me there, though he couldn't see my face because of the paper. For a few moments he just stood there, unsure of what to say.

"I smelled the coffee when I woke up…" He said with uncertainty.

I didn't respond. For some reason his uneasiness was just too entertaining. I gently gestured over to the coffee pot with the paper, keeping myself concealed. I heard him walk over to it and search the cabinets for a mug. Seconds later, he was pouring himself a cup. I could just feel the tension rolling off of him as he decided what to say.

"I don't think it's fair you know who I am, but I don't know who you are." I guess he'd made his decision. Concise and to the point. I smirked. I guess I was done playing for now.

I folded the paper quickly and placed it on the table, finally revealing myself.

"Good morning Captain Rogers, I'm Agent Jones." I introduced myself. He looked completely stunned to actually see me. A lot of people were, never expecting an Agent to look as youthful as I do.

"You're…but you're a woman…" He stuttered.

"Yes, and _you_ are quite observant." I answered wittily.

"There must be some mistake…Nick Fury said I'd be living with an Agent Jones and—"

"And Agent Jones just couldn't possibly be a woman, right?" I answered smartly.

"Right! I mean, that's not what I meant…" He sighed, gathering his thoughts. "What I mean to say is that he never mentioned you were a woman."

"Will my gender be an issue for you, Captain?" I deadpanned.

He looked a bit afraid. "No ma'am, not at all…it's just that…you and I aren't married so living together would be—"

"The year is 2012, Captain. A lot of things have changed. As I'm sure Director Fury told you last night, my mission is solely to help you grow accustomed to those changes. Our relationship will be strictly professional, nothing more I assure you." I replied.

"Look…I know what Fury said, but honestly I don't think there has to be such a big hoopla over me. It's not that I don't appreciate being taken out of the ice, but I think I have a better shot at this on my own." His voice was still rough from so many years without use.

"If you prefer a more independent approach as a solution, that's fine. Although I guarantee you'll be changing your mind within a few hours. Regardless of whichever approach we choose I will live here and we will have to coexist efficiently, Captain Rogers, and in order for that to happen there must be compromise on both ends. Your compromise must be that you will submit to routine physicals by our doctors, so that we can track your progress and make sure everything is functioning properly."

"You said that last part as if I have a choice," He mumbled.

"It sounds much kinder that way, doesn't it? The other side of the coin, Captain Rogers, is that you have a high chance of suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, which most men suffer after coming home from a war…or…waking up from one, in your case." I said with a smirk. "Regardless of if you want it or not, I will be here to help you wade through those waters should the time come." I finished.

"And what will be your compromise in all this?" He asked.

"Clearly I wasn't born in the 1920's and unlike you, Captain, my generation is actually savvy to the technology of this age. My compromise is that I will be without most of it until you have become acclimated to the advancements made in your absence."

He looked as if he was having another moment, so I gave him some time to process this. "I guess that's fair. If I have to have doctors prodding at me on a weekly basis, the least you could do is live with just the radio." He said with a smirk, already sensing just how severely people of this decade depended on the technology around them. "By the way, you can call me Steve."

"I'll think about it, Captain. I've ordered breakfast and it should be here momentarily so sit tight. Afterward, we will begin your education."

"That sounds good." He slowly sank into the chair across from me. I picked up the newspaper and continued to read. "Agent Jones…I still didn't catch that first name." He said.

"Sure you did. My first name is Agent." I replied with a smirk.

After a breakfast of waffles, eggs, and bacon I washed the dishes and put them on a rack to dry.

"Okay Captain Rogers, let's get started." I walked down the hallway to the spare room of the apartment, where a couch was set up with a projector behind it.

"Here is where most of your education will occur. I have devised a lesson plan that should give you the basics of the history you missed. I have 8 movies for each decade of history, including the one you're from and the one you're currently in. You are to sit here and watch one movie each day, and with this pad and pencil you will take notes and write down any questions you may have or anything you may need elaboration on. I have four volumes for each decade as well, so I doubt we'll run out of material to cover.

At the end of each session, you will bring your questions to me for an answering session. We're starting off slowly, and we will build our way up to learning the technologies of today. As for the projector, I'm sure you know how to operate it on your own seeing as you've starred in a few movies yourself. Find me if you have any questions. Good luck Captain."

I left the room and shut the door behind me. I headed to my own room to change into a pair of sweatpants, and headed to the gym for an hour. By the time I returned, he had at least another 30 minutes left in the movie so I fixed myself a light snack.

Right as I chewed my last grape, he returned from the projector room.

"Good lesson?" I asked getting up from the couch, leaving my book behind.

"It was…something. I was dreaming for so long...the ice never really felt like death, just a deep sleep I guess. I'm afraid that this whole thing is just some big dream and I'll wake up in heaven or worse, back in the war. So much has happened...God knows that I've tried seeing the bright side in all of this, but it's still hard to believe. " He said softly, taking a seat at the kitchen table. I gave him a few seconds as he stared down at his notepad, thinking about how he must feel dealing with all of this. "Well...I'm wide awake now." He said quietly, as if he'd resigned to come to terms with his new reality, not having any other choice. I took that as my cue to begin. I put my bowl in the sink and joined him at the table. As I sat, I got a glance at his notepad.

"A lot of questions, huh?"

"Well a lot happened after I defeated the Red Skull…" He posed it more like a question, so I nodded.

"Which is why we're speaking English, and not Japanese or German." I added.

"Okay." He sighed. "So it was a…nuclear…bomb that won us the war…that Howard Stark pretty much invented...Hitler committed suicide…and Hydra was completely wiped off the map after I went down into the ocean."

"Correct. It was your team's efforts that rid the world of Hydra, and to our knowledge there has been no official evidence otherwise."

"How bad was dropping the…nuclear bomb?"

I sighed. "Though the consequences were devastating, not just for them but for the entire planet, it ended the war. Poisoning occurred in a lot of places, radiation turned out to be a much more serious condition than first believed."

"Alright…moving on." He listed off his many questions, and I answered them to the best of my abilities. So far, the answers were nothing I couldn't handle. We continued the conversation for the better part of an hour, before his list was narrowing down. When he reached his final question, he sort of hesitated like he had a lump in his throat.

"The film mentioned uh…" He cleared his throat a few times, his eyes passing back and forth from me to the pad nervously. "Toward the end of the decade things were heating up and something called the…Civil Rights Movement would start." He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. He was obviously uncomfortable discussing this.

"Yes, that's correct Captain. We will get more in depth on the Civil Rights Movement once we begin the 1950's, but the ball was just starting to gain traction in the 1940's." I answered smoothly.

His heart rate was picking up and his face began to flush a little, making it obvious that he thought he'd insulted me. "Not that I have any problems with equal rights, I had a lot of colored friends in the service and—" he rambled nervously.

"Captain Rogers, it's okay. You haven't offended me. I'm proud of who I am. I was already aware of your friends in the service. By the way, the politically correct term these days are African American, though some people prefer Black or Black American. It's a matter of the opinion of the individual, really."

"And which do you prefer?" He asked quickly, almost catching me off guard.

"I am a human being. That's the way I see it." I replied, effectively leaving it at that.

"What…is your color…if you don't mind me asking?" He asked carefully.

I stiffened, beginning to feel a bit too personal. "I'm a mix of African American and creole. My mother was creole, that's French, Native American, and Black and my father was Black and white."

"You're eyes are hazel…that's really beautiful on you. I mean, I think you're eyes are stunning. They're really different. And you're skin tone is pretty, almost exotic, I mean not exotic but gorgeous. It's, you're, you are beautiful and I wondered about it. I should've said that you were beautiful though…I mean you are, but I'm not _calling_ you beautiful…in _that_ way because we have to be professional. Jesus, I'm sorry…" As he stumbled through his thoughts, his cheeks started to blush a bright red that should warrant its own place in the spectrum. I could tell that he had a tendency to put his big foot in his mouth quite often. It was almost charming. Almost.

"And on that note, if you're out of historical questions, I think that will conclude our session for the day." I stood and stretched out my hand. "It really is a pleasure to help you on your journey, Captain Rogers. Feel free to explore the building or use the gym for the rest of the evening."

I walked into my room and shut the door. Well…that could've gone a lot better. It also could've gone a lot worse.

That night around midnight, I woke up to loud noises in the apartment. Immediately snatching my gun from its hiding place, I searched my room for intruders before getting out of bed. I left my room and began to make my way silently down the hallway with my gun aimed in front of me. The noises got louder as I approached Captain's room. I lowered my gun and silently pressed my ear to his door to hear what was going on inside.

He was sleeping, but he must've been having terrible nightmares because the creaking noises his wooden bed made trying to support his large frame sounded like whines and cries. And the bed posts were banging against the wall with his every toss and turn. I could hear him panting for air from where I stood. Fearing that I would anger him if I woke him or breach our forming bond of doctor/patient trust, I chose to leave him alone for the time being. But I really hoped he'd want to talk about his dream so we could get to the bottom of what haunts his sleep. I made my way back to my room, wondering how tomorrow would go.

The next morning, my wishes were not granted. He pretended as if nothing happened last night. He walked awkwardly into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee before having a seat across the table from me.

"So I did some thinking about yesterday, Agent Jones," He started and I lowered the paper to let him know he had my full attention, thinking we were finally about to get somewhere. "I really appreciate all that you're doing for me, and it really bothers me not to be able to thank you in the proper way. It's not the way my mother raised me to thank a lady. I would really like to know your name so that I can thank you the right way."

I smirked. Sneaky little Captain, isn't he? My hopes were thrashed, but I knew how to be patient. I also realized that I really enjoyed the fact that he didn't know my first name, so I decided I wouldn't tell him. It was too entertaining. I decided to play along. However he would only ever receive one free pass from me, and this was it. The next time _his_ nightmares pull me from _my_ sleep, we're discussing them whether he likes it or not.

"You're welcome Captain, but please it's no trouble at all. I'm just doing my job. And I've already told you that Agent is my first name." I held back a laugh.

Clearly seeing that I was not about to give in, he decided to play along. "I've already told you, please call me Steve." He said politely.

"I think I like Captain better." I smirked.

He looked like he wouldn't be deterred after that comment. A look on concentration set on his face as he silently mulled over his next move, and he looked every bit like the soldier I knew he once was. It was if I was watching one of those old propaganda films again, determination evident in those steely blue eyes. I was lost in the moment at that point, and had to bring myself back to reality. I gave myself a small shake in the head, playing it off as a silent laugh. I felt his eyes burning into me.

"What if I guess your name? Would you let me know if I got it right?"

This time I really did laugh. I folded the paper and sipped my coffee, never breaking eye contact. It was hard to look him directly in the face, because I felt alien emotions swirling around in my chest. But keeping my inner turmoil concealed, I gave him a good stare down. He gave a good one right back.

"Alright Captain, I'll give you a chance since answering your questions is technically my job. But I warn you, you will not guess it because it is not a common name from your era. You have my word though, if you guess correctly, I'll let you know."

He leaned back with a big grin, glad to have won the battle. That smile, even his eyes twinkled. This entire mission would be more difficult than I originally thought.

"Great! Let's start with…Mary. Marie. Elizabeth?" He started to list and I ignored him, turning my attention back to the newspaper when breakfast arrived. It was going to be a long day.

Later that day he'd finished watching the film on the 1950's and the discussion session had started. We sat at the table, already deep into conversation.

"So riding the bus, eating in the same restaurants, attending the same schools…this is amazing. I'm glad things finally changed."

"I'm sure you're not alone in those feelings, Captain." I chuckled, and he stared at me for a second with a smile.

"You have a beautiful laugh." He said nicely. I pretended not to hear it.

"Next question."

"Linda? Francis? Dorothy? I got it, you look like a Sharon!" He said excitedly. I just shook my head with a smile.

"Not even close." HE sighed, and continued with his normal questioning.

"Okay. What's your favorite color?" I froze and gave him a suspicious look. "Captain Rogers, the purpose of this exercise was to answer your questions about history, not list off my personal preferences." I said coolly.

"I was just curious. Your black pants have a blue hem, your shirt yesterday was blue, and you're favorite coffee mug is blue. I'm beginning to see a pattern."

"Or you're seeing coincidence."

"I can't afford to believe in coincidence, ma'am." He answered in a soldier like tone, and again I was transported away and lost in who he is. I sipped my coke to bring myself back again.

"Next historical question, please."

"Okay then. When is your birthday? That is technically history, though not extremely significant to history books."

I gave him a stern look, and he gave me a mischievous smile in return. "You know, I don't recall reading anything about a brazen personality in your files. In fact, it stated the contrary and said that you were very shy around women. Why the sudden change in character? Is it a side effect I should be noting?"

"I'm not sure, really. I guess my confidence peaks when I'm around you." He replied boldly.

"Perhaps you were frozen on your _head_ and that's the cause of the side effects." I smirk playfully.

"Ouch. You sure know how to wound a man, ma'am." He pretended to be hurt but his eyes were joking.

"I think that is a great place to end today's session. But there is something I would like to give you." I handed him an S.H.I.E.L.D. issue personal journal, for the few agents who preferred to write entries instead of record them in their personal logs.

"I'd like you to keep this journal and write in it every day. It's for your eyes only, no one else will violate your privacy and you can write about anything you like. I'd just like for you to have a way to express your feelings for the time being until you are ready to discuss them with me."

"With you? You mean…telling you…everything that I'm thinking?" He shifted nervously.

"When you are ready and believe that the time is right, yes, we will start therapy sessions. I guarantee you, you alone will set the pace and the rules once we reach that point. I could be strictly clinical, where you lay on the couch and tell me everything you're feeling. Or it could be as unorthodox as us discussing your childhood over beers or scrabble."

"What's scrabble?"

I smiled and saved his question for later. "It'll be up to you and whatever makes you feel most comfortable. But we can cross that bridge when we get to it."

"And what if I don't do it?" He said sadly after a few long seconds.

"Captain Rogers I'm sure you remember the second option for if our little arrangement doesn't work out. The bedroom in the lab is spacious, though the two way mirror and cameras and doctors constantly watching you might make things a little awkward for you in the long run. But the choice is yours." I smiled at him, feeling I'd successfully won the argument.

When he visibly shrunk into himself, I knew that I had him. "Do you keep one?" He asked quietly.

"Keep what?"

"A journal…"

"I could've sworn we'd ended the questions portion of our session today…" I mumbled in mock annoyance.

"I just want to know. It would make me feel better to know if you did or not." He looked over at me.

I sighed heavily. "Yes I do. My journal is electronic and I make entries every day. Good night Captain." I said honestly and walked to my room for the night. Later that evening I heard him tossing and turning again in his sleep. A few minutes later, I heard him moving around in his room and the sound of a desk chair sliding out. I could only hope that he was writing about his dreams.

* * *

Please forgive any mistakes, it was late! And please review! Thanks! :D


	4. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: All recognizable characters and plot lines belong to Marvel and Paramount Studios. This story was written purely for fun and entertainment; no infringement was intended, and no profit was made. **

**Chapter Three: I'm Not Sure of What to Do**

* * *

That next morning I decided it was time to bite the bullet and for him to start talking. When I heard him moving around in the kitchen at 3:00 am, I went in and automatically started to make us hot chocolate. Somehow the hot liquid could make even the most stubborn people talk about their problems. He was sitting at the table, in the dark. I turned on the dimmest light I could find and sat across from him, placing his mug in front of him.

I took a sip, and the frothiness of the liquid tasted delicious.

"Couldn't sleep?" I asked, breaking the ice.

He stayed silent for a long while. "My mind is racing too much…" He said quietly.

"Would you like to talk about it?" I waited patiently till he felt he was ready.

"It's the same dream I was having the last few days before I was frozen…my best friend Bucky fell from a train into the mountains on one of our missions…and I couldn't save him. He died…to save me." He crossed his arms and sighed heavily.

"You know Captain…I read about what happened that night in the files, and…there is absolutely nothing a person can say to bring one's loved ones back or make someone feel good about losing one. We lose the ones we love, and although it hurts for a time, we're supposed to learn how to celebrate who they were and cherish what they meant to us. I know that the two of you were extremely close, and I'm sorry for your loss. For you it must feel like only yesterday. It's okay to grieve…in your case your grieving process got stretched over several decades, so you never got time to adjust and accept the news. Things were happening so fast, and it's a soldier's mentality to complete the mission by whatever means necessary, including keeping emotions inside with the intent to deal with them later but never getting around to it.

But it's time to stop blaming yourself, Captain…Sergeant James Barnes enlisted in the armed services knowing the potential risks and he died the way every soldier wishes to leave this world…honorably. I didn't know the man, but I have it on good faith that he certainly would not want you blaming yourself for so long. He gave his life so that you could continue to inspire an entire nation, even the world, that evil must be stopped no matter what the costs. This…is a completely healthy thing to be experiencing. By all means, take your time. But…let him be allowed the dignity of his choice."

He snorted and shook his head. "That sounded…oddly familiar."

I took another long sip on my hot chocolate, and he did the same. We sat in silence as I let him think about what was said.

"Thank you…Agent Jones." He said after a while.

"Don't mention it, Captain. I'll leave you to your thoughts." I put my mug in the kitchen sink and went back to bed leaving him to ponder on his own.

Slowly but surely, Captain Rogers began to open up to me. We'd watch television together, and he'd even found a few shows that he liked. We would sit in silence together, I would read on the couch and he would draw in his art pad at the table. I think the fact that he is starting to artistically express himself is great improvement. He was even kind enough to share a drawing with me. It was of a motorcycle he said he'd once owned. There was another drawing he'd secretly working on for days, but he's been too protective of it to show it to me.

He never stopped trying to guess my name, and he still hasn't even gotten close to it. Each day he tries to get a little more personal with me, and each day it's getting harder to fend him off.

He isn't predatory or obtrusive at all in his efforts…he's more infectious and impossible to resist. He pulls me in and each time I give little useless facts about myself, despite the stubborn facade I've spent years perfecting. He gets under my skin in a bad way. I can tell he wants more from the relationship we have, but I just don't think that's possible. I knew this would be difficult, but I can foresee the next couple months being nearly impossible.

* * *

**Entry #1,256**

**S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent number 5498-5870**

**May 3, 2011. **

**The time is 25 minutes past 23:00 hours, it will be my birthday in just under 35 minutes…I will 23 years old.**

**My dreams have been getting weirder lately, I'm not having the nightmare anymore thankfully but that doesn't mean that my current dreams have made much sense. I suspect it has something to do with my impending birthday. Lately I've dreamed of my mother, in a white flowing sundress with the sun shining behind her. Her hair was in the curls she loved so much, and she was smiling at me with the sun shining behind her. She leans in to kiss my cheek and keeps smiling at me with her bright hazel eyes. I was almost too young to remember her, this is one of the few memories I actually have. I assume we were going to church that day and that's why she was dressed up...but it was far too long ago to remember. I'm not complaining. I'll take those memories over the nightmares any day.**

I sighed heavily. I know that expressing myself by making these entries is good for my mental health, but that doesn't make talking about an extremely complicated situation any easier.

**From a professional standpoint, everything is going exceptionally well with the Captain's rehabilitation into society. He can now perform basic functions on a computer including the video diary program though he prefers handwritten entries, work a television, his typing skills are improving since he already had experience with typewriters, and he can use basic cell phones although texting, emailing, chatting, and skyping are still foreign to him. He's also become a great sparring partner once he learned some modern techniques.**

**On the other hand, our sessions are becoming harder and harder to weather through for me. Just when I think I have a lock on all my emotions and all the fucked up things in my head, he catches me off guard. I don't know what to do. I tried so hard in the beginning to boldly draw lines in the sand about where we would stand when it comes to our relationship, but he has a way of kicking at the dirt and blurring those lines. Little by little each day he would get more personal information out of me.**

**He now knows my favorite color, my favorite book which I let him borrow, my favorite television show, how to record it for me, and he drew me a picture. It's a portrait of me and it's absolutely beautiful.**

**I'm coming to the realization that I must've wanted to subconsciously volunteer the information, because part of my training as an agent was learning to withhold information not spill it. He has a way with me, and I realized today when I had an emotional reaction to the picture he drew for me, that I'm emotionally compromised and I cannot complete my mission.**

**I'm thoroughly humiliated to admit defeat and deeply ashamed, since obtaining this mission had obviously been quite the battle. Some higher-ups openly expressed their censure when the Director suggested that I, a woman, rehabilitate the Captain with the world today and they felt a soldier, male, someone he could relate to more, would be more beneficial in helping him through this process. Regarding me like I was some fan girl that would swoon at the sight of Captain America and beg him to make me his bride. They don't know me very well. But Director Fury does. He refuted them vehemently and I argued that women are just as capable handling missions such as this as the male agents were. Without ****_swooning_****. Most female agents complete missions more efficiently and timely than the male agents. Agent Romanov was proof of that. And my record was impeccable, undeniable. I was more than qualified for the job. Women were just as capable, not inferior, as men and just because we had ovaries didn't mean we aren't competent. This isn't some bad spy movie where the girl falls in love with her mark. I know I could do it, as long as I kept a reasonable distant. But there were variables I couldn't foresee. I never expected the Captain to actually take an interest in me. He's Captain America and I'm...incredibly insignificant in reference to the big picture. I know that I've failed, and being a soldier means knowing when to admit defeat. **

**I've decided that tomorrow will be the last day I spend in Steve Rogers' company, and when he is sleeping I'll request immediate transfer and accept any punishments that come with it. **

**In a strange way, I feel like I'm doing this in some small way to protect Steve. If he really knew everything about me, he wouldn't think twice about me disappearing. Two minutes and counting till my 23****rd**** birthday. I think I'll celebrate in solitude.**

**Agent 5498-5870, signing out.**

I went to bed after that, feeling there wasn't really much more to do after that.

* * *

The next morning began in the same way that it had for the past few months, with Captain Rogers, jumping right in. "Alright, let's see…Martha? Joyce? Jean? Ruth? Ann? Not even close am I?" He smiled.

"Not by a long shot, Captain." I smirked.

"One of these days, I will guess it. I promise." He chuckled, sipping his coffee. I felt a small pang because after today, he'd never get another chance.

"Any bad dreams lately?" I asked, hoping to get the clinical part of the discussion out of the way without much rebellion from him.

"Not as often as they were happening, which I believe has a lot to do with being able to talk about them. It feels like...when I keep it all to myself things began to stack and stack till they just explode in my nightmares. But talking about them often helps to lighten the load, so thanks." He said honestly.

I nodded in reply with a smile. "So what would you like to do today Captain?" I asked.

"You know what? I think I'll make breakfast."

I nearly choked on my coffee. "You'll do what?" I asked in shock.

"Make breakfast. I used to be an okay cook. You've instructed me on how to use the electric stove, and I think I should do fine. I promise not to burn down the building."

"Captain I'm not so sure this is a good idea…" I got up to stop him. He immediately planted me back in my seat.

"With all due respect Agent Jones, if you lift one finger or try to assist me in any way, I will subject you to a six hour long marathon of past Dodgers games." He threatened.

Well he had me there, nothing sounded quite as bad as that. I eyed him suspiciously.

"Why the sudden urge to cook?" I asked.

"Why not start now? There won't always be someone to cook my meals. And a man should know how to fend for himself."

There was something funny going on. And I didn't trust it.

After eating the Captain's half burnt pancakes, I offered to clean the dishes like normal.

"No, please, allow me. I can do them." He hopped up and beat me to the sink. Okay, something fishy was definitely going on.

"So what would you like to do today, Captain?" My agent side was kicking in, secretly interrogating the subject for information. Sooner or later, he was bound to slip up.

"I was thinking maybe we could visit a museum. I read in the paper that there was going to be an exhibit about Ancient Greece opening today. I know you'd really enjoy it."

"That sounds interesting, but we shouldn't really waste a day when we could be working on helping you."

"No, no, I don't mind. Maybe taking a day off would be a good thing. We could see the exhibit, get some lunch, maybe even sight-see a little…"

I'd had enough. "What you're describing, Captain Rogers, sounds suspiciously like a date." I stood up, my tone was fierce and reprimanding.

He froze. Ah hah, so I caught him now. He turned around to face me slowly. "So what if I am…asking…you…on a date ma'am?" It was like he'd reverted back to the small 90 pound man with asthma, impeccable manners, and confidence issues before he underwent the Super Soldier surgery. Oh, that's low. He knew whenever his 1940's manners came into play I was usually putty in his hands. But not this time.

"We've discussed this and I thought I made myself clear. Our relationship is professional, nothing more."

"Well you say that, but the signals I'm reading are telling me different. And I usually follow my instincts ma'am." He answered, reverting back to the confident soldier. Just like that.

"The answer is no! I cannot condone that! I could lose my job! It would jeopardize everything that I've worked for!"

"Why! Why does it have to jeopardize everything? Huh? What's so wrong with me? I know you have feelings for me."

"That's not true." I answered meekly.

"Tell it to someone who believes you, because I sure don't." He crossed his arms defiantly, and it only fueled my rage more.

"This discussion is terminated." I start to stomp away.

"That's great! All I wanted to do was something nice for your birthday!" He shouted after me.

I froze in my tracks, and when he saw the tension in my body he realized his mistake.

I reeled back on him. "Excuse me? What did you say?"

He had the decency to look down ashamed. "How in the hell did you know it was my birthday?" I crossed my arms impatiently, waiting for his answer.

He looked up into my eyes. "I'm sorry." That was all the confession I needed.

I took a step back, tears threatening to spill from my eyes as full rage wracked through my body. "You were listening last night! Outside my door! How dare you! Who the fuck do you think you are! Je ne peux pas vous croire! Vous le connard arrogant! Comment vous pouvoir? " I screamed, my anger so unfathomable I slipped into French to curse him out. He looked ashamed and berated, especially since I'd never really cursed at him before.

"How dare you! You think you can just invade someone's privacy like that? You betrayed my trust! What gives you the right, _Captain America_!" I spat out his name like it was venom.

"I'm sorry alright, I honestly didn't mean to at first but when I was walking past your door I overheard you and I couldn't help myself, I just wanted to know what you were really thinking! What you really thought of me! You're so cryptic and inaccessible it drives me crazy! Please don't cry, I don't like making women feel bad…I'm sorry…" He begged, his eyes watering.

"I don't care how my crying is affecting you right now. My privacy was invaded. How many times have you done this?"

His silence said it all. He couldn't admit how many times he'd listened in. I shook my head and willed the tears away, ready to walk out that door and never look back.

"Wait, please…don't go! Don't leave, I'm sorry about everything. Just don't walk out the door, I cannot do this without you!" He followed me into the living room.

"Well you'll just have to learn, won't you Rogers! Have fun being a lab rat for the rest of your life! Wait, have we even figured out how long you'll live? You could be immortal for all we know! Enjoy the rest of your...existence!" I screamed.

Right as I walked into the living room, he pulled me back into his chest. It was warm, and comforting, and made me feel everything I never ever wanted to feel for him. He held me as tight as he could, with me pushing against his chest.

"Please don't…I love you." He confessed.

I finally broke free. "Love me? You don't even know my name. "

I looked him dead in the eyes and mustered as much venom as possible. The poison was starting to pump through my veins, turning me into the cold hearted bitch that I used to be before this mission. "A comrade of mine once said that love is for children. You of all people should know that love and pain are eternally bonded, that one doesn't exist without the other. Or have you forgotten about Peggy? No, you couldn't have, you still keep a picture of her by your bed and you stare at it every night. The pain isn't worth it. I'm no good for you anyways Steve. Trust me. You're better off." I walked over to the counter to grab my handbag.

"So that's it?" Silence filled the room as I searched for my badge to get security clearance to leave the building. "I don't buy it. You're only trying to push me away because you're scared, well guess what, I'm not going to stop trying. I love you and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it!" He yelled, finally letting his anger get the better of him. He doesn't believe in cursing at women, so he must be furious.

"Sure there is, you don't have to worry about that. You will never see me again. As I'm sure you learned from eavesdropping last night on my most personal moments, I'll be requesting for relocation immediately." I rolled my eyes, pissed I couldn't find the damn badge.

By this time he was following me around the living room as I searched. "What don't you understand? I sit in Fury's face every single day until he tells me where your new post is so I can talk to you. I can't let you go!"

I reeled on him causing him to almost run right into me. I held my chin high and looked him square in the eye. "Let me explain to you what this is. What you think you feel is a delusion. It's like Stockholm Syndrome in a way." I knew that I'd lost him so I continued to explain. "You think you have these feelings for me because I'm the only one you've been around for you to even have feelings _for_. I'm the only person you've really seen and interacted with on an extremely personal level since you were taken out of the ice! You're mistaking love for extreme attachment issues. But I'm going to fix it right now!" I walked away, continuing my search.

"Do you want me to just lie?" He was back to following me, putting back all the things I'd tossed out the way in my haste. "To believe the lie like the one you're telling to yourself right now? Fine then, alright! You're bad for me, I clearly get it. I don't see how something good could come from loving you. So I won't, I just won't do it. Happy now! Does the lie make you feel any better!" He threw a pillow into the kitchen and I heard my mug shatter on the floor. There's the outburst I'd suspected had been building for weeks. Completely out of character.

I stood completely still, my eyes wide as saucers and my heart pounding. His face was red with anger and his chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace, with liquid hot fury racing through his veins. I made no sudden movements, my eyes affixed on the rage in his eyes and the clench of his jaw. The tension in the air was so palpable, it felt like the space between us was electrically charged. His fists were clenched tight as tourniquets, and my body was tensed to retaliate if the need arose. Slowly his breathing returned to normal, and the tension in my body relaxed just slightly. I knew in that moment he and I needed to separate immediately, before we both lost control. I hadn't planned on taking down Captain America today, but I was damn sure about to.

When I felt it was safe to move again, I quickly continued my search, considering if the desk agent would just let me slide if I bribed them. "Look I'm…sorry for raising my voice I don't normally do that just please…" He was back to following me around again was he snapped out of his haze, this time into the kitchen and back. He would reach for me and I would snatch away. I could hear the shakiness in his voice but I avoided looking into his eyes because of the tears forming in mine.

He finally used his strength to make me face him and he flashed my badge in my face, though all I could see was the heart broken look on his. "Here I'll give it back to you, I'll let you make the choice…I didn't even read what the badge said…I just didn't want you to go…just…don't."

"You had it…the entire time! Vous êtes vraiment terrible ! Vous l'âne incroyablement égoïste—" I yelled.

"Look, please speak English! I'm a little rusty on my French at the moment Just talk to me in English, please!" He tried talking over me but I was seething and couldn't hear him.

At that moment someone knocked on the door and I answered it without thinking. Officer Dayton stood there looking ready to piss in her pants from the death stare Steve and I were giving her.

"S-s-s-sorry Sasha, but you and Captain Rogers both have been reassigned on a new mission. The quinjet will arrive to fly you to the helicarrier in 45 minutes.

A few seconds passed as we processed what she said.

"Sasha? Your name…it's Sasha?" Steve asked looking at me as my eyes shot daggers at her.

Well blow me to hell.

* * *

*I cannot believe you! You arrogant asshole! How could you?

*You really are terrible! You unbelievably selfish ass-

Please excuse any grammatical errors or historical inaccuracies thus far, it was very late! But I really wanted to do a double chapter post, I felt like I owed it! Please review! Thanks XD


	5. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: I just want to say that just having any reviews feels really good and extremely rewarding so I'd like to thank Misplaced Levity, 666AnimeFan666, and Purple 'N' Blue Wings for your comments, you're encouragement goes a long way. :D Also I hope you guys are ready for the bumpy ride that Steve and Sasha are about to take, because I foresee Captain America adapting to the future in ways no one expected of him or his character...visualize him taking a few unneeded pointers from Tony Stark. Lol. Also I'm unsure if I ever mentioned this, but each chapter is inspired in someway by a song, usually included into the title of the chapter somehow. I also take lyrics from the song and slip them into the conversation between Steve and Sasha. Here's all the lyrics from the past chapters I didn't include:**

**Chapter Two - Waking Up **

_**"I'm wide awake..."**_

_**"I was dreaming for so long..."**_

**_"God knows that I've tried seeing the bright side..."_**

**Chapter Three - I'm Not Sure of What to Do**

_**"You're bad for me, I clearly get it. I don't see how something good could come from loving you."**_

_**"The death of me must be your mission."**_

**_"I'm not sure of what to do."_**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN MARVEL, OR THE AVENGERS, BUT THE PLOT OF THIS STORY IS MINE. :)**

* * *

**Chapter Four: Let's Just…Start Over.**

Upon arrival on the Helicarrier Director Fury briefed Rogers and me on our mission. The Tesseract had been stolen by the Asgardian God Loki, and Agent Barton had been compromised. To retrieve the Tesseract, the Director wished to activate the Avengers Initiative, which at the moment included Dr. Bruce Banner (as a consultant only, he had no intentions on setting his alternate identity free), Tony Stark, and Captain America. At the moment, the only people on the Helicarrier from the team were Steve, Black Widow and Banner. I was there merely here in an assistive capacity for Agent Maria Hill. She and I got along great because we kept things strictly professional and didn't socialize much more than that. It was a comfortable work companionship.

And that is more than I can say for my relationship with Steve. Since the big argument where he found out my name, I hadn't spoken a single word to him that didn't pertain to the mission. Due to the more pressing matters at hand, my request for relocation was put on hold. I could tell it was hurting him, but I couldn't worry about that. Personal feelings and missions did not mix well.

When I retired for the night to my living quarters, I was glad to be away from the craziness. While observing the mission briefing I'd seen a totally different side of Steve, he was fully the Super Soldier. He was all business, serious, and concerned about finding Loki. I was really attracted to him and hated myself for how sick that was.

After taking my shower for bed, I felt this was as good a time as ever to make my journal entry.

As I made my way over to my computer desk, I heard a knock on the door. Thinking that it could be Agent Hill with orders, I opened the door without a second thought. There stood The Captain, in all his star spangled glory.

"Sasha, can we talk?" I stared at him for a second, before attempting to close the door again. He caught it before I could shut it.

"Please? I just need a few minutes." He asked, and his beautiful blue eyes were begging. Why did I have no control when it came to this man? This was twisted. If he knew the truth about me and my past concerning him, he would run away without looking back.

"You have two minutes. Nothing more." I said curtly.

I opened the door and let him in. He stood in the center of the room in his uniform, and suddenly the room looked much smaller around him. He seemed so much bigger and larger than life to me now than he ever had before. He had a sort of dream like quality about him, and I knew I was slipping off the deep end. I shook my head discreetly to focus.

"What do you want?" I asked coldly.

"I'm sorry for breaking your trust and listening in on you. I should've been able to resist the urge but I didn't, and I promise you that I will never do it again. But I'm not sorry for loving you and trying to keep you from leaving, Sasha. I need you, whether you like it or not. And although the mission has changed, we're still in this together."

I huffed and crossed my arms defiantly. "Is that all?"

"No," He said as he walked over to me and took both my hands. "I've been thinking, maybe we should start all over. I decided I'm ready to talk."

We were quiet for a minute. I waited for him to continue, but he didn't. "I have no clue what you're talking about, Steve."

"You said someday…when the time is right and I think that I'm ready…you and I can start having therapy sessions. Well I'm ready. I'm more than ready."

"Steve…that was when I was still considered your handler. That's not the case anymore. We don't have to discuss anything…"

"No, no, I want to…please Sasha. I need this." Those big blue eyes were stealing away all my resolve.

"Honestly...I think that things should stay the way they are."

"You don't mean that." He answered childishly.

"Yes I do. I like it this way." I replied, just as immaturely as he did.

He sighed hard. "Maybe you like it...well I don't. The only thing that's been constant for me since the day they took me out of the ice has been you. You were right about what you said back at the apartment. I am extremely attached to you, you're the only person I truly trust in this world now...but _I'm fine with that_. I prefer you over anyone else, because at the end of the day when I close my eyes and say my prayers for all the people I care about, you're the first name I breathe. I need this...even if you don't. Maybe you'll settle for this petty silent treatment...well I won't. Please."

Silence engulfed us as what he just said sunk into my mind. It was brutally honest, vulnerable, and completely impossible to ignore. I couldn't just pretend he didn't exist now after what he'd just said to me, I couldn't just ignore his looks of longing and emotion that only happened when his eyes were on me. No one else, but me.

I was still too stunned to speak, so he broke the silence. "But I only want to do this on one condition…the sessions have to be a two way street. You have to share just as much as I do."

I tensed up and immediately shut down emotionally, fortifying all the stone barriers around my heart, my mind, my feelings and my past. There was no way in hell I was agreeing to this.

But why not, my reasonable side argued. Would it be so bad? I would get exactly what I wanted…as soon as I opened up and started telling the truth he would high-tail it in the quickest direction opposite me. That plan would _definitely_ work. Once he found out what a total shit storm my mind turned out to be, he and I would never be able to make eye contact again and his supposed love for me would dissipate into nothing.

So why was I so reluctant? Did I actually want him to stay around? Did I actually care what he thought? Did I want us to work out some type of relationship where we could still be in each others lives if he ever found out the truth? The greedy and selfish part of me did, for my own dark reasons.

Yes, he would definitely leave me alone for good if I told him the truth. It wouldn't fail. Until then, I would selfishly enjoy the time I had left with him.

"Yes…I'll do it."

"Yes!" He said as he fist pumped the air, happy that I agreed.

"I have a condition of my own. You have to go and change out of your uniform. It's very…distracting…for me."

"In a good way or a bad way?" He asked smartly with one eyebrow raised.

"That concludes your two minutes Steve. I suggest if you'd like tonight's session to begin, you better go and change."

"I'll be right back!" He opened the door and was about to walk out of it.

"By the way…Sasha…is the most beautiful name I've ever heard. It really suits you." He said sweetly before leaving.

What did I get myself into?

* * *

He returned 10 minutes later in a pair of sweats, which didn't really help my active imagination either. He closed the door behind him and looked around awkwardly, like he'd never been in a girl's room before.

"You act as if you've never been alone with a girl before, Steve." I chuckled, sitting on my bed.

"Actually I haven't." I thought he was joking at first till I looked at his face. He was being completely serious.

"I want to be as honest as possible with you, Sasha." His face flushed, just a little.

I looked at him in wonder for a moment. His words had floored me. "Aren't you going to sit down?" I gestured the opposite end of the bed, trying to cover up my momentary shock. He slowly started to walk over.

"Do beds make you nervous, Steve?"

"A bed on a normal day, no. A bed with a beautiful woman on it…just a little." He opted for the couch instead, which was fine with me.

"Why don't you start at the beginning? Tell me about your childhood…" I began.

"Well…my childhood was like any other childhood during the depression as it's called these days…I was very small and frail as a child and well into most of my adult life. Asthma, high blood pressure, you name it. Some of it didn't even have names back then but they've named it now. My mother…she was a nurse in the Tuberculosis ward. When she got hit with the bug, she couldn't shake it and it beat her. I missed her every day. My father was a soldier in the 107th…he was killed in action by mustard gas. When I became of age I tried numerous times to enlist in the service and got shot down every time. Thank god I met Dr. Erskine."

"Did you have many friends growing up?"

He shook his head with a smile. "Not as many as I would've liked. My best friend was Bucky. He was smart, quick, and all the girls loved him. He always stuck up for me when we were kids. I was smaller than most of the girls in the class when we were in school."

"Did you have very many female friends?"

"Not many girls wanted to kiss the guy that weighed less than they did. I was so skinny no girls wanted to date me. Bucky would try and bring me along on double dates, but…none of the girls he tried to set me up with ever worked out. I wasn't tall, dark, and handsome like he was. I couldn't talk to them the way he did. He was a real schmoozer. He could sweet talk as good as a movie star. He would tell me to call girls sweetheart, to kiss them when they weren't expecting it to make them blush because they secretly loved that kind of stuff, but…I wasn't smooth like him. I miss him every day."

He sighed, and before I could ask him another question he beat me to it. "So what about you? Tell me about your childhood."

"My childhood…is really dark actually. I don't talk about it much." I stared down at my hands, as if I could somehow shrink into them and disappear.

I was about to change my mind about sharing. Until I looked at his face, and I knew that I had to share. If he was willing to commit, then so was I.

"My father had a drinking problem, and he would get so drunk some nights he would beat me and my mother. He hated my grandfather, and my grandfather couldn't stand him. My granddad's job made him travel a lot so I didn't get to see him as much as I would've liked. They always argued, and whenever my grandfather left after a visit my dad would take out his anger on the two of us.

Some of my first memories are of him telling me his old war stories of him and his buddies, and all the great things they did for the country. He had a way of making it sound so exciting, so enthralling that it felt as if you were there. My grandfather was the one who taught me to read, and the first thing I read was one of his old comic books. While other little girls played with Barbies and pretended to be a pretty princess, I played with army men and recreated some of those old stories. According to my father it wasn't proper for a little lady, and he hated how much my grandfather and mother encouraged my behavior.

One night…when I was six years old…he found all the comic books and posters my granddad had been sending me. My mom had kept it a secret because she knew how much it all meant to me. When he saw all the memorabilia, he lost it. I hid under my bed because it always felt safest to me when they fought, and I heard him beat my mother to death in the other room. I assume that when he realized she stopped breathing that he came into my room and started to beat me. If my granddad hadn't shown up when he did, my dad would've killed me. He shot him dead, two in the chest one in the head."

I felt ice slowly traveling through my veins as I relived that night, pins and needles momentarily prick all over my body before all sensation is gone completely. The S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem on the door I'd been focused on subconsciously blurred as I stared but was no longer seeing, completely submerging into the story. I no longer felt like I was in my room on the Helicarrier, with Steve, but I was taken back to my childhood bedroom with the dark shadows dancing everywhere. I pictured the poster hidden on the wall under my bed as my heart starts pounding in my ears, and distant footsteps sound as if they're slowly approaching me.

_"Who's strong and brave, here to save the American way?"_ I heard my voice shakily sing softly to myself, unsure if I'd actually sang it out loud or if it was just in my mind. The song didn't comfort me like it usually did as the pounding in my ears grew louder and the footsteps got closer. Finally I felt something snatch me, shaking me roughly.

I squeezed my eyes tight and worked hard to refocus, only to open them and see the face from the poster. Steve.

My hands were shaking, and my heart was still racing. "I'm so sorry…" I breathed out, trying not to have a panic attack.

"No I'm sorry! I shouldn't have pried, I'm such an idiot! I'm so sorry Sasha…please tell me that you're okay." He was thoroughly shaken by my episode, sitting next to me on the bed holding my hands to steady them. Worry furrowed his brow and panic danced in his eyes as he looked at me, obviously so concerned he was no long hesitant about sitting next to me on the bed.

"I shouldn't have said anything…" My eyes were downcast with humiliation, and suddenly my shame didn't want him so close to me.

"You once told me that sharing helps to lighten the load…and I want to be that person for you. I want to help you Sasha…like you help me." He brushed some of the hair that stuck to the light sheen of sweat on my forehead behind my ear, and I felt my cheeks grow warm.

We sat there for a moment in silence, my hand in his while his other hand rubbed my cheek, and I felt like sparks were about to spontaneously fly between us. The moment was passionate and meaningful, and a lot of things were spoken silently.

"Thank you for sharing with me, sweetheart." He said with a smile, and I gave him points for trying out the nickname and having the courage to actually say it, but with one look in my eye he knew it wouldn't become a normal thing. I small laugh escaped my lips.

I pulled his arm to signal him to sit next to me, so we were both leaning back against my headboard.

"You don't have to share anymore if you don't want to…I feel honored you even told me what you just did." He said softly, playing with my fingers. Again, my rules and lines drawn in the sand were being blown away by the confusing storm that is Steve Rogers.

"It's okay. That's the hardest part to talk about…I'm glad I shared it with you." I said with certainty.

"After that my grandfather retired and I went to live with him. He took a few jobs here and there as a favor to an old friend every once and a while, but his main concern was me. He started to get sicker as I got older, and I didn't cope very well. I rebelled horribly, getting arrested, shoplifting, you name it. I put him through so much, and I regret it to this day. Still…it was nothing he couldn't handle. He was a very strong guy. He was a hero. When I graduated high school I found out that his mysterious friend was really Nick Fury, and that he'd been working for an organization named S.H.I.E.L.D. when he retired. After I learned the truth I enlisted in the army. It wasn't too long before I was working for S.H.I.E.L.D. too. Best decision I ever made."

"Did you have many friends growing up?"

"Not any of good reputation, and none of which do I still keep in contact with. I'm not really the same person that I was back then. I wouldn't have anything in common with those people from my past."

"So you didn't have…a boyfriend?" There's the shy Steve I've come to know.

"Not really. There was this one guy…in high school…he played football and I had just made the cheerleading squad. He was dreamy, tall with broad shoulders, blonde hair and twinkling blue eyes...I remember his smiles always made me forget everything I wanted to say. I thought he really cared for me..." I trailed off, reliving what felt like a distant memory from another life time. "But...he wasn't who I thought he was. Let's just say things didn't work out." My eyes hardened with ancient anger as flashes from that Halloween night cross my mind, I have to keep myself from reliving that memory as well. It's certainly not as traumatic as when I was a small child, but it's dark all the same. "It was for the best."

"I'm sorry." He said honestly.

"Don't be, he was a chump."

"A chump? Sasha, I daresay that I'm rubbing off on you." He said with a knowing smile.

"In your dreams, Rogers." I said laughing, and I tried to hit him with a pillow. Of course with his super reflexes, he caught it.

"I really like that…you started calling me Steve." He said with a smile.

"It's growing on me." I returned the smile.

"So how come you didn't want me to know your first name?"

"I was trying to prevent this," I gestured between the two of us. "But…so much for that." I chuckled.

"I have an idea…let's tell some things we don't know about each other." Steve said with a smile. I thought about it and took a shaky breath. This was the eventual goal, after all.

I shook my head wondering where this was going to end up. "Only if you start first."

"Okay. I only kissed Peggy once…nothing more." He said sheepishly looking at his hands.

I was floored again. "Of all the things you could've shared with me…why share that?" I asked quietly.

"Well because…I just needed you to know where I stood when it comes to having relationship experience. I will make mistakes…but I promise that I'll always apologize and I will make it up to you afterward. I will always try my _hardest_ each time I do, and I promise…I will learn from each and every mistake I make." He said sincerely.

He was breaking my heart. And all he _wanted_ to do was to be in it. This was too much. Suddenly those barriers went up and I shut down again.

"I used to have panic attacks when I got overanxious, not just when I had flashbacks or nightmares, and have a tattoo. That's something you didn't know about me." I said evenly.

"Really?" He asked with an interested smile. "A tattoo of what? Where? If you don't mind me asking…" He added quickly.

"On my back, and it's not important. I think we should end our session right here, don't you think?" I stood, walking toward the door. Any longer and he might've seriously had me spilling national secrets. He had just that much power over me.

I held it open, and he looked down at his shoes with a face of understanding. "Well thank you for trying, Sasha…" He said softly. He stood up and walked over to the door, stopping to look me in the eyes. His eyes melted my barriers and I drowned in them, seeing everything I ever wanted and all that I aspired to be.

"One of these days, Sasha…I'll work up the courage to ask you for a kiss." He stepped closer to me and I could smell his manly scent. Everything about him made me addicted.

"Maybe on that day…I'll allow you to." I said dreamily, all hostility forgotten.

He walked away and I came back to my senses, wondering how I even allowed tonight to happen. The conflict raging within me was reaching its boiling point, and the outcome has me fearing what will happen next.

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**What did you think? Feel free to review! Thanks again XD**

_**"Let's start over..."**_

**_"Maybe you like it, well I don't."_**

**_"Maybe you'll settle, well I won't."_**


	6. Chapter 5

**Hi everyone! So I'm not sure what's going on with the posting of chapter 5 (technically chapter four in the story because the prologue counted as chapter one I think...didn't think that one through lol)...but I deleted the post and re-posted it again. Hopefully that helps out! If not, please message me and let me know...not really sure what to do. Here is chapter Five! Sorry about the delay in updates...this math class is kicking my behind! But Steve and Sasha are still ever present voices in my mind telling their story...so I'll continue to relay it to you! Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: All recognizable characters and plot lines belong to Marvel and Paramount Studios. This story was written purely for fun and entertainment; no infringement was intended, and no profit was made. **

**Chapter Five: Can You Love Mine?**

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"I have not laughed that hard in a very long time," Steve chuckled, still red from laughing at my joke. He and Stark had just captured Loki in Stuttgart and after an all-out brawl between Thor and Tony that Steve had to break up, he came back to my room to hang out for a while. That is, after he made sure Loki was put safely into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s custody.

I'd stolen a few beers from some of the officers stationed in the hangar of the Helicarrier and while Steve said alcohol really didn't affect him anymore because of his metabolism, I was already feeling warm and fuzzy in my chest.

"I like your laugh, it's…genuine." I slurred, laughing. My cheeks were burning so I knew I'd been doing nothing but smiling and laughing for the last twenty minutes.

"I think you've had enough tonight, Sasha." He smirked, taking my beer and putting it on my side table.

"Maybe you just haven't had enough, sweetheart." I snatched the bottle back and took a swig with a smile.

"Sweetheart? That's the third pet name you've called me all night. Maybe we should have beers more often…move up to hard liquor and I might finally get that kiss." He gave me a knowing smile.

I looked into his beautiful blue eyes. "Maybe you should go…it's getting late…" I said softly.

"Oh come on, Sasha. I was only joking, I would never take advantage of a woman, drunk or not." He flashed me that bright smile that said, 'Trust me, I'm Captain America.' But I knew that behind that big smile, a mischievous boy twinkled in those big eyes. A guy that few people knew existed because he always had to be Captain America. But I could tell from his stories that growing up, he and Bucky had been far from perfect little angels.

His eyes softened with intimacy. "Besides, you know I would never hurt you." He softly brushed my cheek with his hand, and I couldn't help but to lean into his palm. I felt my entire body flush with heat and suddenly I was completely aware of how close our bodies were.

I had to do something to break us apart, or else I actually might kiss him. I grabbed our beers and stood up.

"Another round?" I asked, effectively ruining the moment. I walked over to my duffle bag and grabbed two more, and glad to have my back to him for just a few seconds.

"You know I just can't see why you won't leave things alone or believe me when I tell you that we wouldn't work…" I said bravely, now that he wasn't distracting me.

"I'm damaged goods…extremely damaged…you deserve to be with someone who's worthy of you Steve…not someone with my fucked up past." I mumbled, though I knew he heard me.

"Our past isn't who we are, but who we were. It's what we do today that determines who we'll become tomorrow." He answered smoothly.

"Do you just come with a handbook of useful expressions?" I asked incredulously.

He ignored my smart comment. "I don't care about your past Sasha. You know that."

"You wouldn't say that if you knew the truth…" I mumbled again.

"Then tell me the truth! What is so horrible that it would make me hate you? Talk to me! That's supposed to be the whole point behind this!" He yelled.

"Nobody knows the truth! Not even Fury! I've never even let anyone get close enough to be honest about it! I can never tell you especially, it's seriously too fucked up! You'll think I'm some crazy lunatic!" I yelled back.

"Sasha everybody's got a dark side…nobody's a picture perfect human being. But try and see where I'm coming from here…we didn't even know each other till a few months ago, what about your past could possibly even have to do with me!"

But will he love me? Still?

There was a knock on the door that interrupted us. Saved again. He opened the door with a look that said 'you better have important business or else'. The young officer cringed a little.

"Captain Rogers, Directory Fury would like you to meet him in the lab for a meeting with Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark." He rattled. Steve nodded and the officer knew he had been dismissed. A fleeting feeling of arousal shot through me, the sight of him being in control was a major turn on. But I stayed focused on the matter at hand.

He turned back to me. He placed his hand on my cheek and I closed my eyes, almost willing him to disappear so I wouldn't feel this way.

"Look at me." He said sincerely. I opened my eyes and peered up into his. "When I get back, I want answers. No more evading the truth." He said seriously.

And he walked away, leaving me in a daze of confusion over what I should do.

A few hours later when I was back on duty, The Black Widow had interrogated Loki and found out he planned to unleash The Hulk. Upon the team confronting Dr. Banner about Loki's manipulation of him, the Helicarrier was attacked by a brainwashed Agent Barton and a hit squad. He'd been rogue for days now, helplessly under Loki's spell against his will. And unfortunately because he had so many various talents, Hawkeye has been a formidable opponent and an incredibly resourceful aide in Loki's schemes. Black Widow took his absence and betrayal the hardest, though she'd never wear her heart on her sleeve.

It was when one of his exploding arrows disabled one of the Helicarrier's engines that The Hulk had escaped Dr. Banner's control, and wreaked havoc on the lower bay of the Helicarrier. Meanwhile Directory Fury, Agent Hill, myself, and the rest of the officers in the bridge were under attack by Barton and his men.

As I fired off shots at the men dressed in S.H.I.E.L.D. gear to protect Directory Fury and Agent Hill, my mind couldn't help but wonder to a certain Captain. Bullets flew past me and an arrow whizzed behind my back, but the fear in my heart had nothing to do with my own safety. Was he safe? Was he still alive?

Concentrating back and forth between listening to Agent Hill's one-sided radio chatter for updates about Captain (I'd lost mine when the initial engine had blown) and watching for Hawkeye up in the rafters, I realized at that moment that I loved Steve Rogers.

Of course I loved him, I'd already known that. Which was why things were so disturbing.

Ever since I was a little girl I'd been obsessed with Captain America. I read his comic books, I knew his stories, I had the posters, and I watched the cartoons. When my father would drink too much and lash out at us I'd always imagine Captain America coming to save me. I idealized him, even more than I did my grandfather. He was my hero. Since I was born he had instilled the stories Captain America's perfection and good deeds in me. He once said, 'Find a man like Steve Rogers to love you, and he'll love you the way a man should, angel.'

And that's just it. To the rest of the world barring a generation that was slowing fading away, Captain America was nothing more than a propaganda tactic used to encourage patriotism and civil engagements with the war efforts created by Senator Brandt during World War II. The man who posed as Captain America was an actor named Steve Rogers, nothing more.

But it was different. I knew the truth. My grandfather actually knew the real Steve Rogers. So I knew he was a real person, a soldier, and more importantly a good man that had saved my grandfather's life in the war despite the constant teasing I received as a child. When my mom died, I finally stopped arguing with people about him. But I never stopped believing. As I got older, I began to fantasize about what it would be like to actually meet him and get to know him. And when I got older still, I wondered what it would be like to love him or marry him. He'd meant so much to me when I was younger that my mind just sort of fixated on him as a coping mechanism to deal with the trauma I'd gone through as a child.

Any potential love interest I've had in my life was compared to Steve Rogers, and they never quite measured up to Captain America. I knew it was because they weren't him, and they weren't pure of heart. And no matter how hard I tried, the only men that attracted me were fit, tall, and blonde with blue eyes and a big smile.

Yes, I was already in love with the Captain America from the history books and the man from the memories of an old war buddy of his. But now it was something more. I was falling in love with Steve Rogers, the actual living person.

A loud explosion behind me caused my ears to start ringing. I could see mouths moving, shouting and giving orders, but I couldn't hear a thing. The Helicarrier began to lurch forward suddenly and everyone lost balance as it began its descent from the sky. As I fell I hit my head on a desk, and blood started to seep from a gash on my forehead.

I wondered why the total self-honesty had to happen now. My grandfather once said that once a soul starts spilling a lifetime worth of truths from the lips, the last breath is never far behind those words. Well I'll be damned if today was my last day.

Once Loki escaped, the Helicarrier started leveling out I'm assuming thanks to Iron Man or Thor. Everyone started to gain their balance again, slowly trying to take in what had just happen and assess damages and injuries.

Agent Hill announced that Fury just said Agent Phil Coulson was dead, and a somber silence passed over the room. Phil was gone. I couldn't believe it.

I was only able to allow the medics to treat half my injuries before I got so emotional I had to leave. Coulson? He recruited me from Harvard. He taught me almost everything I know. He was smart. He was a strong fighter. He could defend himself. Most importantly, it was only his Captain America vintage trading card collection that bettered my own. And of course, he was the only soul that knew of mine. What had happened that someone had gotten the better of him? It wasn't fair. Coulson was one of the few people in this world I actually labeled as friend.

Then a dark storm settled over my heart, making all the emotions building inside me begin to crescendo. What about Steve? The pit in the center of my soul was beginning to consume me…the feelings of despair over losing my mother and grandfather were back with a vengeance because of losing Coulson. I was beginning to feel like I lose everyone that I ever care for again, because I'd lost another confidante.

If Steve was gone too…I wouldn't make it.

Jogging through the winding passages of the Helicarrier bumping into random medics and officers, it was the feeling of my heart pounding painfully in my chest that made me realize my feet were even moving. I had no idea where I was running too. My breathing goes ragged as the panic attack gets more aggressive and I make turn after turn. My vision blurs but I keep moving, even though I know I'm about to pass out.

I can hear heavy footfalls quickly coming toward me though I can't make myself look up to see who it is. All I can do is concentrate on not breaking down because I can never let everyone see a crack in my exterior. I have to be strong and tough. It was proving to be an impossible task. In my subconscious I was a little girl hiding under her bed again, hearing the loud footsteps coming toward me. My heart felt like I was about to go into cardiac arrest.

And then…he was there. Steve grabbed me, and forced me to look into his eyes. Forced me to calm down. Forced me to steady my breathing. His eyes searched me, taking inventory of all my visible scrapes and bruises, with his breathing heavy from sprinting all the way here from wherever he'd been. I looked at him with the tears welling up in my eyes, not able to communicate all the emotions I was feeling with words. It was too hard at the time.

He pulled me into his arms, holding me so tight that I knew he was proving to himself I was real and alive. The gates finally broke and tears poured down my face as I gave into him, squeezing him for all I was worth. He'd known about the respect and friendship I had with Coulson, so he knew how painful it was for me.

"He was an idiot…a complete idiot…how could he?" I sobbed.

"He sacrificed himself to save everyone on this ship. He died the way any man would want to die…honorably. Allow him the dignity of his choice." He said softly into my hair.

He picked me up and carried me to my living quarters, and closed the door behind us…effectively blocking out the all the bad things in the world.

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**Hope you guys like this one! Trust me, things are heating up! I think the truth is about to come out between them...will he still like her? Or be completely creeped out...please review! lol XD**

**_"Everybody's got a dark side..."_**

**_"Will you love me?"_**

**_"Nobody's a picture perfect..."_**


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